Second Secrets
by CooperTrooperSG1
Summary: Set after Sam's dad tells her he has cancer in "Secrets."  O'Neill was the only other one there.  Come on, this one had to be done.  SJ UST, O'Neill POV.


Title: Second Secrets

Author: Coopertroopersg1

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Season 2 episode Secrets

Setting: During the episode, right after Carter's dad tells her he has cancer.

Pairing: S/J UST or Pre-ship, or just friendship even (I suppose)

Author's Note: Found this unfinished story lurking around and decided to go ahead and finish it up. I never posted it because honestly, I didn't see this episode until it was like six years old, and I figured lots of people had done similar stories, since it is a pretty obvious spot for a fairly shippery insert. But then I thought, well, I've never actually come across one, so... here it is.

Second Secrets

Jack O'Neill frowned as he looked at his watch. He and Carter were supposed to go grab a bite to eat in the hotel restaurant downstairs, after she finished visiting with her dad. He had assured her he didn't want to intrude and that she didn't need to entertain him, sure she would want to have dinner with her dad and get caught with him, but she had replied simply that a couple of hours with her dad was more than enough and she would be happy to join him for dinner at 19.00 sharp.

It was unlike his 2IC to be late for anything, particularly since there weren't, as far as he knew, any alien doohickeys in the vicinity to grab her attention - unless she'd snuck a couple in her carryon bag or something, he thought with a smirk. Plus, her room was right across the hall from his in the ridiculously lavish DC hotel the Air Force had sprung for since they were supposed to be getting medals and all. How could she be _late _walking across the hall and knocking on his door?

He shrugged and decided to give her ten more minutes before going over to see what was going on. Hell, for all he knew she was just taking longer to get ready than normal. He didn't have a whole lot of experience with Carter outside the SGC - whenever they had done things on their downtime together it had been as a group, and she'd always met them there. He knew she could be geared up and ready to go to a planet a bazillion light-years away in under ten minutes, so somehow she'd never struck him as one of those women who took forever just to get ready to run down for some dinner… but who knew?

Hell, maybe it had taken longer with her dad than she'd thought, or they'd decided to do something together after all.

After the initial surprise of meeting _General _Jacob Carter had worn off, he'd noticed there was a lot of tension between the father and daughter and had studiously tried to act like he wasn't noticing it, taking his cue from Hammond.

He didn't know what the tension was about, but the little revelation that his 2IC was the daughter of a two-star General had taken him by surprise, and it took a lot to surprise Jack O'Neill. He understood, now that he thought about it, why she probably kept that information very close to the vest. Carter already stuck out like a sore thumb. Well, not like a sore thumb. But she definitely stuck out. She was like the smartest person on the planet, for crying out loud! Plus ridiculously over-qualified for her position, crazy-young for all the degrees she had, and absolutely gorgeous to boot. All those things tended to draw an awful lot of attention to anybody, particularly to a woman in the Air Force. Add in "General's daughter" and the woman would seem downright… unapproachable.

To most, Jack thought, quirking a half smile. Because while all that stuff should have made her really annoying to someone like Jack, she was actually the exact opposite. She was so modest and sometimes downright _sheepish _about her many assets that the overall effect, while dazzling, was also rather endearing.

He cleared his throat. He was quite sure he wasn't supposed to be thinking of his 2IC as endearing… or anything remotely close to it. Particularly when they were off on their own away from their other teammates. His mind unwillingly flashed back to their flight out. They'd been sat next to each other, of course, and after he'd - he hoped - tactfully assured her she didn't need to keep him entertained nonstop on the flight, they'd lapsed into a comfortable silence. After a few minutes, she'd pulled out a book of crossword puzzles and started in on one while he looked out the window mostly. Thirty minutes later and he'd felt a sudden, light pressure as her cheek landed on his shoulder. He'd looked down in surprise to see her sound asleep.

He'd shifted a bit to ease her neck into a more normal position, then gently tugged her crossword puzzle from her hands and started doing it himself.

She'd woken up when they'd announced their descent, giving him a completely embarrassed look and a muttered apology as she sat up and tightened her seat belt. He'd waved off the apology and said, "No problem, Carter, it's been a while since anybody's drooled on me."

Her cheeks had turned pink and she'd wiped her mouth hastily, and been unable to look him in the eye for the next half hour.

Shaking his head again at the memory, it occurred to him as he glanced at his watch that perhaps having dinner together wasn't the best idea. Whenever he saw her in civilian clothes his IQ seemed to drop about thirty points… and since hers had to be about a hundred points higher than his to begin with, increasing the discrepancy probably wasn't exactly the best idea. But, they'd already made plans. And, he admitted to himself, if he stayed holed up alone all night he'd just brood about that reporter.

It had been ten minutes since the last time he'd looked at the clock so he pocketed his wallet and key card and went across the hall, knocking on her door sharply. When she didn't answer right away, he got concerned. "Oh, Captain Carter?" he called, knocking again. "There's a steak downstairs with my name on it - don't keep me waiting!"

She opened the door and his eyes widened in surprise. She definitely wasn't late because she'd been busy getting ready! Her face was scrubbed so clean her cheeks were pink, like she'd either used way too hot water or scrubbed way too hard. The hair around her face was damp from the face washing, the rest of it much messier than usual. He glanced down and raised both eyebrows at the worn grey USAF tank top and navy sweat shorts, which were definitely the shortest shorts he'd ever seen her in. She was barefoot, putting her a bit shorter than he was used to, although she was still one of the tallest women he knew in real life.

He made his eyes go back to her face and frowned when he met her eyes. They were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and much brighter blue than normal. Either she was sick or she'd been crying. A lot. He wasn't sure which one he hoped was the case.

"Are you… okay?" he asked finally when she didn't appear about to volunteer any information.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, her voice sounding a little scratchy. "I'm not really feeling up to dinner anymore. Could you please just go without me?"

"Uh… are you sick?" he asked.

She hesitated as though thinking about lying before shaking her head. "No, sir, I just…"

"What the hell happened with your dad, Carter?" he asked, suddenly realizing that had to be what had upset her. What could the man have possibly said…

Her eyes widened and he knew he'd gotten it right. As she struggled to come up with a response, he squeezed past her into the room, even though she wasn't making any effort to invite him in, not wanting to have a private conversation standing in a public hallway. Not with nosey reporters lurking around left and right anyway!

She looked like she wanted to ask him to leave, but off duty or not, he knew she wouldn't because he was her CO. he felt a little guilty taking advantage of that fact, but it was obvious that something had really upset her and he wasn't about to leave her alone all night crying by herself.

"Carter?" he prompted again when she had taken her time closing the door and now looked like she was hoping the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

"I…" she started, shifting on her feet uncomfortably. "It's… I got some bad news from my dad today, sir. I just… it's taking longer for me to get used to it than I thought it would. I'm sorry. I should have called you about dinner."

"Forcryingoutloud, Carter, I don't give a damn about dinner. I care about whatever's been making you… cry."

She started to offer another excuse, but her face suddenly crumpled and the tears started again. "Dammit," she muttered angrily to herself, wiping her eyes hastily. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm not usually like this…"

"Carter, I KNOW that," he said, getting fed up with her reluctance to talk to him. "Come here."

Before she could object further he had pulled her into a hug. And it was like he broke a dam of some sort. All of a sudden she was latched onto him tightly and crying freely, in between trying to breathe and trying to tell him what was wrong in between sobs, so all he caught were a few things in between mostly incoherent mumblings into his shoulder.

The way she was clinging to him reminded him of when they had thought Daniel was dead and Hammond made them all see the shrink together, when she'd been hypnotized and realized they'd left Daniel behind, alive.

He tried to make sense of what she was saying, but all he was catching were a bunch of "My dad"s, "doctor," "Air Force" and, he was pretty sure, even a "NASA."

"Carter, breathe for a second," he finally interrupted, a hand going to the back of her head.

She tried to comply, or at least stopped trying to talk while sobbing, but it was several minutes before the sobbing died down and she had caught her breath.

"Okay?" he asked quietly, looking around her room while she nodded and lifted her head, leaning back away from him a bit but still holding onto his sweater absently.

There was a small table and chairs and an even smaller desk, but no little sofa like his room had. He sighed and shuffled them over to the pristine bed - the military corners on this thing would have made Hammond proud - and nudged her to sit down on the edge, which she did mechanically, like she was on autopilot.

He crouched down in front of her so he could look her in the eye, since she was looking down at the carpet, ignoring the twinge in his knee at the position.

"Carter?" he prompted gently, not wanting to set her off again now that she seemed to be more in control of herself, but needing to hear what was wrong. "What happened? Am I going to have to go take a swing at a two-star general for making my 2IC cry? Because I'd _hate _to have a black mark like that on my otherwise pristine record."

That got a smile out of her at least, although it was a brief one that didn't quite reach her eyes. It did make her look at him though. "No, sir," she said, sounding a little amused.

"Well, that's a relief," he said lightly. "Okay. Spill."

She bit her lip.

"Please," he added.

Her eyes widened, as though she was absolutely shocked he even knew the meaning of the word. He frowned at that thought. Okay, so he didn't use it all that often… still, he _would _use it, if they were in similar off-duty situations where it was _normal _to use it… realizing he was getting off track, he shook his head minutely and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile, sliding his hands over hers where they rested in her lap.

"I… my dad… told me he has cancer," she said, barely audibly.

"Cancer," he repeated, more to assure himself he'd heard her right. Damn. "What… damn, Carter. I'm sorry. How… how bad?"

"He tried to make it sound like I didn't need to worry… but I know my dad, sir… he wouldn't have told me about it in the first place unless it was really, really bad. As in… terminal, I'm guessing."

He didn't know what to say so he just squeezed her hands a little, and figured he'd done the right thing when she squeezed back.

"I… we were fighting," she continued quietly. "Like we always do. Then out of the blue, he just says he has cancer. I mean, if he'd told me that from the beginning, I wouldn't have…"

"What were you fighting about?"

She shrugged. "The usual. Him thinking I'm wasting my life, being disappointed in me."

Jack gaped at her.

He must have looked beyond shocked because when she met his eyes again she asked a confused, "What?"

"Carter, how could anyone be disappointed in you?" he asked incredulously.

"Sir?"

"Look at you!" He knew he was on dangerous ground here, but this just made no sense… and the overwhelming need to comfort this woman was superseding the Air Force officer in him for the time being. "Carter, you've racked up like a billion degrees and you're a hair's breadth away from Major and you're what, barely thirty? Almost thirty? Any parent would be more than proud of you."

"Sir, I'm not… thank you. For saying that. But… I'm not disagreeing with you because I need you to flatter me, I'm just telling you what we were fighting about. It's okay. I've… come to terms with the fact that my father is disappointed in me. A long time ago. Or at least, I thought I had…"

"Dammit Carter, he _couldn't _be…"

"He is," she insisted. "It's okay, really. It's… you're going to love the irony of it all, sir. It's… I joined the Air Force as a way in to NASA. So I could one day fulfill my dream of going into space," she said dryly.

"Oh," Jack said, starting to get it.

"He thinks I've thrown all that away, buried in the mountain… and he doesn't understand why, of course."

"He knows the deep space radar telemetry story is a cover. He should know that _whatever _you're really doing, it matters. Or you wouldn't be getting a medal tomorrow."

She shrugged. "He's my dad," she said simply, as though that explained it. Which, Jack supposed, it probably did, to her.

"Like I said," she continued. "I got used to all that a long time ago, sir, it's nothing new. But I think, the cancer… knowing that my dad might very well die being… being so disappointed in me… I just… I don't know, I guess both things are just making each other seem that much worse, right now."

Again, he didn't know what to say. He shifted to sit next to her and wrapped an arm around her. After a few moments she put her head on his shoulder, like she'd done on the plane. He waited a minute, then pressed his cheek against the top of her head, rubbing her arm lightly. Nobody said anything for quite some time, but he could tell she was thinking. And putting herself back together a little bit at a time.

For himself, Jack was flabbergasted. Whether or not he knew the specifics of what she did, how could Jacob Carter not be proud of his daughter? If he had a kid like her, he'd be singing her praises from the rooftops! Surely she must be mistaken… but she had sounded so absolutely certain, and one thing _he _was certain of was that Carter was always right.

He sighed.

Maybe there was something he could do. If Jacob Carter was really terminal like she feared, surely Hammond might be willing to give him security clearance so she could tell him what she really did? So he could die in peace, knowing his daughter's dreams had come true? And so she could live her life without the guilt and sadness she'd feel if he died with this hanging between them?

"I'll talk to Hammond," he said firmly.

She stiffened and sat up straight, twisting sideways a little to look at him. "Sir?"

"Ask him to read your dad in," he explained.

Her eyes widened. "Sir, you can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because…" she looked away and shifted uncomfortably. "I don't want any special favors, sir," she admitted.

"Yeah, I think I got that, Miss-let's-surprise-my-CO-with-my-two-star-father." He nudged her shoulder. "Look, it's not a favor, it's…" he thought for a few moments and said, "Ah hell, it's a favor. But it's a favor for your dad, not for you. Can you live with that?"

She thought for a moment and said, "My dad and General Hammond have known each other a long time, sir. I doubt he'll agree to it because I'm sure he's already thought about it and decided against it."

"Well, if they're friends that should make it even easier…"

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm sure General Hammond is hesitant to set a precedent of letting people under his command tell their sick relatives what they do. You know how dangerous…"

"Carter! Sometimes exceptions should be made. Deserve to be made."

"With respect…"

"Ack! Will you STOP that already? In case you couldn't tell from the circumstances here, we're a bit past all that at the moment, Carter! Look… maybe you're right, but I'm still going to talk to Hammond."

"Why?"

"Because it'll make ME feel better at this point, okay? That work for you, _Captain_?"

She nodded, chewing on her lip and looking at the floor. Or her feet. He followed her eye-line and noticed that her toes were painted. Purple. Heh.

"Interesting," he said under his breath.

"What, sir?"

"Huh?" he feigned confusion.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing, Carter."

They lapsed into silence. After a few moments, his stomach growled loudly.

"I'm sorry about dinner, sir, if you'd like I can get dressed and we can…" she offered.

He was on the verge of accepting when he noticed something in the back of her eyes. She was offering to be polite, dammit. He thought they knew each other well enough by now to be past all that…

"If it were me, and I'd just found out something sad about my father, I think I'd probably want to avoid a crowd of happy diners," he said carefully.

She shrugged and started fiddling with the hem of her pillowcase.

"Look, we've both got to eat. I'm going to order something. Why don't you go get cleaned up, then when you come back we can either talk about your dad some more, or not. Whatever will help."

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I really didn't feel like going downstairs."

"No problem." He went over to the little desk and got the room service menu. "Want anything in particular?"

She shrugged, already on her way to the bathroom. "I'm not that hungry, or that picky."

That was certainly true, he mused as she shut the door quietly behind herself. The woman spent most of her life eating MREs and commissary food. He quickly ordered himself a burger and fries and decided to go with things he knew for sure she liked that were also kind of comforting when you weren't feeling so well: chicken salad, mashed potatoes, and macaroni and cheese. He hoped the combination wouldn't weird her out, but figured she was probably mainly going to just pick at it anyway. When he hung up the phone he realized the shower was going and picked up the television remote for some channel surfing to kill some time.

Glancing down at the sweater he was wearing, he saw that it had definitely seen better days. She'd cried all over it in more than one place. He pulled it over his head and checked the tee-shirt he had on underneath. It was a grey Simpsons tee-shirt that showed the evolution of man, culminating in Homer. Perfect. She'd get a kick out of that. He toed off his shoes absently before propping his feet up to get more comfortable.

She came back in only a few minutes later, hair damp but in the same clothes as before. He sat straight up again immediately and went to turn off the TV, but she waved it off. "It's okay. I'm kind of talked out at the moment if that's all right."

"Sure," he said, glancing sideways at her when she sat down next to him and copied his pose, propping her feet up. The position inadvertently gave him a pretty interesting view of some very nice, long, bare legs, he couldn't help but notice. Seriously, did she just not care at all how ridiculously short those shorts were? For someone who kept saying "sir" and "with all due respect" every two seconds, she seemed remarkably unconcerned about how casually she was dressed. What the heck did that mean? or did it not mean anything?

"Sir?" she prompted, sounding concerned.

Apparently he couldn't listen and think about her state of attire at the same time. She looked like she'd been talking to him for a while. "Sorry, Carter," he said quickly. "Just thinkin'. what's up?"

"Nothing, sir. I was just saying I like your shirt."

"What?" he looked down at his tee-shirt. "Oh. Right. Thanks. I like yours too." he had to stop himself from smacking himself in the face as soon as he said it.

To his relief - and her credit - she only turned faintly pink.

"Of course, I still prefer that other tank top you've got, the one that only comes down to about here," he gestured to his own ribcage. "You know, the one you were wearing in the locker room the time you…"

"Colonel," she admonished, now turning scarlet.

Ha. Now he was the least embarrassed person in the room. Yes, it was a cheap shot, and a fairly juvenile defense mechanism, even for him, but still. He felt better.

"Sorry," he said, shrugging lightly and changing the subject. "Couldn't resist, Carter. Anyway, it was all wet."

"What?"

"My sweater. I took it off because it was all wet. Hope you don't mind."

"Oh, no sir. And I'm really sorry about your sweater. Please leave it here and I'll take care of it for you…"

"Don't worry about it, Carter," he said dismissively, now wishing he hadn't said anything, as she was clearly more embarrassed about crying all over him than she was about his bringing up the whole "caveman" incident from last year. Which said a whole lot about her, actually.

He was saved by someone knocking on the door. "Room service."

"Excellent," he said quickly, jumping to his feet and practically leaping over to the door. He let the kid bearing two trays in and fished around in the pockets of his khakis for a tip while the bellboy took the trays over to the little table. He tipped the kid and nudged the door shut, breathing deeply as he approached the table, where Carter was pulling the lids off the food.

He smiled in satisfaction at his plate. The burger was huge. And messy. And unhealthy looking. And there was a mountain of fries next to it just waiting to be drowned in ketchup. "Not a word to the doc about this, Captain," he said firmly, pointing at her with a fry for emphasis.

She giggled and picked up her fork. "Yes, sir."

They had been eating in a companionable silence for a few minutes when she suddenly said, "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked around a big bite of burger.

She waved her fork at her plate. "I highly doubt this was a straight off the menu selection."

He shrugged. "Didn't want to risk ordering you something I'd never seen you eat. And you and Daniel always eat mashed potatoes when you're upset about something."

"We do?" she asked in surprise.

"Yeah."

"Hmm, I guess you're right," she said thoughtfully.

He finished way before her, even though he'd tried to go slow. Carter, he had learned shortly after meeting her, was just about the slowest eater on the planet when you weren't out in the field with her, eating out of a bag. "I've got my magnetic chess set over there if you'd like to play, sir," she suggested immediately once he was done.

"Sure," he said, going to get it. "But after you finish. Take your time."

He busied himself setting up the board after moving his finished tray over to the top of the dresser for the time being. Busy looking down at the board, he said quietly, "Carter?"

"Sir?" she looked up at his tone, looking a little apprehensive about the question to follow.

"You haven't… I've never heard you mention your mom before, and you haven't said anything about her now. Are your parents divorced, or…"

"No, sir," she cut him off gently, poking at her macaroni absently.

"Damn. I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to…"

"She died when I was thirteen. Car crash."

"That's… a terrible age to lose your mother. I'm really sorry I brought it up…"

"It's okay, sir. It was a long time ago. She um, she was supposed to be waiting for my dad to pick her up but he was late because of work, so she took a cab, and got in a wreck."

"Wow. So your dad…"

"Blames himself, I think. Mark definitely does."

"Mark?"

"Oh, sorry. My brother, sir. He and dad haven't spoken to each other without fighting since the accident. And, once I joined the Air Force… actually, once I entered the Academy, really… Mark interpreted that as me siding with Dad over him, so we don't… we haven't heard from Mark much. I'd be surprised if Dad's even planning to tell him he's sick."

"Wow."

"Yeah." She took a few bites to have something to do, it seemed, then asked hesitantly. "If you don't mind my asking, sir… I've never heard you mention your parents either."

"Not much to tell," he shrugged. "Dad died of a heart attack twelve years ago. My mom had her first stroke shortly after that, hung in there a while, had a few more, and died four years ago."

"No siblings?"

He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, sir." She sipped her drink for a few moments then said hesitantly, "Can I… can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What does it feel like?"

She was looking at him with wide, curious, sad eyes. And he was, predictably, clueless.

"What does what feel like?"

"Being without your parents," she said carefully.

"Oh." He thought for a moment. "I guess I never really thought about it specifically like that. I mean, trying to put it in words. It's… weird," he said carefully.

She looked like she'd been hoping for more so he tried to elaborate.

"It's… I don't know exactly. Kind of like home is gone. Like when you go to college, and it's comforting being somewhere new and exciting because you know you can always go home… but then you realize that first summer back that it's never going to be the same again anyway, and it was just the _idea _of home that was making you feel better…" he tried to explain. She nodded earnestly, so he supposed she must have understood what he was trying to say. "I guess it's kind of like that, but_… more_."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Course, it's probably different for everyone. You've been without your mom half your life already. Maybe Daniel would be better…"

"He lost them both so young I'd feel selfish talking to Daniel about missing my dad now, as an adult, when he never…" she trailed off.

"Yeah," he offered quietly after a moment. He nodded to her tray. "You done poking at that?"

"Yes, sir."

Before she could object or thank him again he got to his feet quickly, grabbed the tray, grabbed his own, and took them out to the hallway to be picked up. Then he came back, determined not to bring up the subject again on his own, unless she initiated it. For the rest of the evening, he was just going to keep her company, and hopefully cheer her up a bit in the process. Or at least keep her from dwelling quite so much.

"Okay, Carter. Prepare to be whupped by the chess-master," he announced as he reclaimed his seat.

"You wish," she countered, remembering to add an obligatory, hasty "sir" after a moment.

SG1SG1SG1SG1

He won the first game, she won the second. They were about to start playing a tie breaker and had just taken a break so Carter could go to the bathroom when someone knocked on the door. Thinking it must be someone at the wrong room since it was now after midnight, Jack didn't think anything of going to answer it.

Until he opened the door. And saw General Jacob Carter standing there, looking just as stumped to see him

as Jack felt. The two men stared at each other for a second that seemed to stretch on forever.

"General Carter," Jack greeted, resisting the urge to say, "this isn't what it looks like." that was always what people said when it was _exactly _what it looked like, right?

"Colonel O'Neill," Jacob replied in the same tone.

"Jack."

"Jack," he echoed. Then Jacob flicked his eyes down at Jack's untucked tee-shirt and sock-clad feet and said, sounding almost a little hopeful, "They must've given me the wrong room number…"

Of course, at that moment, because some divine entity up there sure as hell got a kick out of screwing with him, Jack was certain, Sam reappeared, emerging from the bathroom with a challenging, "Your ass is mine this time, Colonel."

She stopped a few feet behind him and he knew she'd seen her dad when he heard a sharp intake of breath.

Jack closed his eyes for a moment as he saw Jacob, eyes wide, no doubt noticing in one fell swoop every single thing about his daughter's oh-so-relaxed and casual appearance, late at night, in a hotel room, with her CO…

Jack really couldn't blame the man for jumping to conclusions.

But, he thought to himself as he ended up flat on his back in the doorway staring up at two equally mad looking Carters and clutching a suddenly aching jaw, the punch really was a bit excessive.

"Nice right hook," Jack croaked, as everything exploded.

Carter started yelling at her dad, trying to help Jack to his feet from behind. Jacob was yelling too. Jack caught bits of both, the most ominous phrases sticking out in his head being, "I told George something was up with you two" and "I KNEW it."

"Whoa, what the hell?" Jack interrupted at that one, batting away Carter's attempts to check out his injury. "I'm fine, Carter, don't go getting all excited about putting another splint on me," he said gruffly. "What do you mean you _knew _it and you're telling Hammond you were right?"

"I mean, you sonofabitch," Jacob replied through gritted teeth, "That I warned him when I met you at that reception that something was going on here that shouldn't. he said there wasn't anything to be concerned about but I knew I was right."

"What the hell are you talking about, Dad?" Sam asked, completely flabbergasted. "What could we possibly have done at the reception…"

"Want to make sure you're covering your tracks better next time, young lady?" Jacob asked sarcastically. "Try not flirting up a storm in front of your base commander and your father, or maybe just tone down the eye-sex a little."

"Eye-sex?" Jack squeaked. "We don't have eye-sex! Carter, what's eye-sex?"

"I have no idea, sir. And, Dad, not that it's frankly ANY of your business, but Colonel O'Neill and I don't have _any _sort of sex!"

"Samantha, you must think I was born yesterday. It's the middle of the night. I come up here to apologize and try to talk to you about what happened and _he _answers the door all… wrinkled, with no shoes on, then you come out of the bathroom parading around in next to nothing talking about…"

"CHESS, Dad! I was talking about chess, because we have been playing chess for the last three hours, because my CO who happens to be a very good FRIEND was keeping me company, since I was just a LITTLE BIT upset tonight after finding out that my father is DYING of cancer! Honestly, even if Colonel O'Neill and I were breaking every damn fraternization regulation in the manual do you seriously think I'd be in the mood for a roll in the hay after finding out you have cancer for God's sake!"

"Watch it, young lady…"

Suddenly Sam wheeled around to face Jack. "Sir, I think I'd like to finish yelling at my dad in private if it's all the same to you. You don't need to see all this."

"You sure?" he asked, feeling like he was probably taking the coward's way out but really, really, really he had been hoping for an escape.

"Yes, sir. I'll be fine."

"Oh, I know that, Captain," he couldn't help but respond. Jacob Carter definitely struck him as a man that few people could stand up to. He knew he could do it himself, if he had to, but would really rather not. He obviously hadn't gotten off on the right foot with the guy and didn't want to compound the problem needlessly. Not when he was dead certain that Carter, in all her currently infuriated glory, was about to give her father one helluva ass-chewing, one that would probably be delivered even BETTER if she wasn't doing it in front of him.

So, Jack gratefully escaped back to his own room across the hall. Just as he shut the door behind himself, the yelling started up again.

SG1SG1SG1

After a while, Jack figured he would need to talk to at least one if not both Carters once they were finished with each other. He settled himself in the hall, resting his back against his own door with his knees bent and his legs wide apart, feet flat on the carpet. He fiddled with a yo-yo absently while he waited for Jacob to emerge.

When he did, Jack got to his feet quickly, trying to get a read on the older man.

"Chess, huh," Jacob muttered, not looking surprised to see him there waiting.

"Yes, sir," Jack said sincerely. "I would never… but more importantly for you, your daughter would never… she _is _the Air Force, she's like a walking advertisement of the model soldier. You don't have to worry about her, sir." He hesitated a moment and couldn't help add, "You should be proud."

"Hmm," Jacob said noncommittally, scrutinizing him carefully.

"For what it's worth, sir, I'm sorry you're sick. Carter was really upset about it, and needed someone to talk to… and our resident pop-psychologist is on assignment at the moment so mine were the only ears around."

"Thank you for saying that," Jacob said carefully. He finished sizing Jack up and said, "But I didn't get to be a General without relying on my gut instinct more than once. I believe you two about what was going on in there tonight. You can relax. I won't be telling George about it. But keep this in mind, O'Neill. I'm not blind. Or stupid. You'd better be careful."

Since Jack told himself that practically every day, sometimes several times a day, he couldn't exactly disagree with the man.

Jacob seemed to take Jack's silence as both an admission and an agreement, because he suddenly held out his hand and said, "I don't know how the hell you guys saw any action inside Cheyenne Mountain, but congratulations on the medal. Didn't realize Colorado was a dangerous post. So I'm going to tell you what I always tell George. Take care of her, or I'll hunt you down."

"Yes, sir," Jack promised sincerely, shaking his hand. He felt compelled to add, "Although she's usually the one saving the rest of our collective butts. For the record."

"Hmm," Jacob said again, squeezing Jack's hand before walking briskly down the hall to the elevators.

Jack watched him go, now a little bit more able to see how Carter thought he wasn't proud of her. He didn't think it was really that, exactly. But he could see how she could get that. The guy was… intense. Inscrutable. To say the least.

Once the elevator had dinged, Jack raised his hand to knock on Carter's door, just to check that she was still okay, and it opened underneath his raised fist before he got a chance to knock.

"You were watching all that?" Jack asked.

"Just making sure he was behaving himself," she insisted.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry about him, sir. I don't know what got into him, but once he calmed down enough to listen to me, I explained the situation and he understood."

"Sure, Carter. And I wouldn't be too worried about your dad if I were you." He rubbed his jaw gingerly. "Guy's obviously got plenty of strength left in him." She started to apologize again so he held up a hand quickly to stop her. He thought for a moment, then said, "I bet you just arranged that interruption so you wouldn't have to lose to me again at chess."

She laughed, and he was ridiculously proud of himself.

Yeah, Jacob was right. He needed to be very careful here.

"I'd love to prove you wrong, sir, but I _am _pretty beat. Could we reschedule our rematch for tomorrow night?"

"Absolutely," he agreed, smiling.

After a moment of silence where they just sort of stood there smiling at each other, he realized he should probably go now. "So, uh, you're okay?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you for everything, really, it meant a lot."

He swiped a hand through the air in response. "Anytime, Carter." He started to retreat to his own room, but she suddenly said, "Wait!"

"What?" he asked, confused, as she darted back into her room but left the door open. Unsure as to what he was supposed to do, he was about to peek in and call out to her to check when she reappeared with his shoes in her hand. He then looked down at his socks and remembered toeing them off while she'd been in the shower before. "Oh, right. Sorry."

"No problem, sir. I just didn't want you to be looking for them in the morning." She handed them to him and suddenly looked embarrassed.

_Now _you're embarrassed? He wanted to ask. But the whole "your dad, the General, thought he caught us doing something naughty and accused us of having eye-sex" thing didn't do it for ya? He shook his head, smiling ruefully. She was nothing if not complicated. And rather unpredictable. And, he was learning, a woman with quite a few secrets still up her sleeves.

Speaking of which…

"So, Carter. Any more secrets you need to tell me about? Dad's a General, didn't see that one coming. You have a twin sister who's a spy? Is the president your uncle? You and Danny secretly long-lost twins, but to protect you from the Empire your identities were hidden?"

"No, sir," she said laughing, then chewed her lip nervously with the look on her face he usually saw right before she told him something she knew he wasn't going to like.

He groaned. "What? Just spit it out, Carter."

She looked at his feet and mumbled something that sounded like, "Germmfmmlsmg'frrrrr."

"Huh? Buy a vowel much, Carter?" he prompted, flummoxed.

She looked up at him and her cheeks were bright red. "General Hammond's my godfather. Sir."

She tried to say it casually and matter-of-factly. Jack just groaned. "Of course he is." So now every time he was on another planet with her, he could busy himself thinking of all the lovely ways not one but TWO USAF Generals would find to inflict severe pain and suffering upon him should anything happen to her whilst in his care. Of course, none of them would ever say anything remotely close to that subject to HER because they all valued their lives too much to intimate to Sam Carter that she was ever in anyone's care… but still. Jack knew he'd be losing some sleep over the secrets he'd learned about his 2IC on this trip. And hell, the trip wasn't even over yet. Just great.

"Sir?" she prompted a bit nervously, and he realized he'd just been staring at her dumbly for a while now.

Which, honestly, she should be used to by now, he thought a bit sharply, since on a GOOD day he understood maybe half of what she said but more often than not it was probably closer to ten percent.

Before he got his mouth working again she started babbling an explanation. "He… he pulled me into his office when I was reassed to the mountain and made sure I knew that far from being able to expect any special treatment he would probably actually be a bit harder on me than everyone else to compensate and that I shouldn't worry because nobody knew that we knew each other and my father didn't know I was working for him and it should probably stay that way, and…"

He held up a hand just to stop the nonstop stream of explanation. "Carter, it's okay. I'm just surprised. Again. It takes a lot to surprise me, and you seem to have quite a knack for it these days."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"STOP apologizing, forcryingoutloud! Just… promise me that's it? Just the TWO Generals?"

She laughed nervously. "Yes, sir."

"All right then." Smiling, he backed up to his door and swiped himself in. "Night, Carter!" he called, sounding in his opinion just a little too cheerful.

She laughed quietly and was leaning against her own doorframe, already closing her door gently. "Goodnight, sir."


End file.
